Tracking fast.

Tracking  fast

 I  look  through  the window,        

Green trees,  move  along,

Look  as if  they  run  away

From   mound   of  fire

Which  is   spreading   fast,

Proud  of   its  powers

 gifted  with  copious , 

Enriching ,destroying ,  life.

Cows on  the graze,

Cattle  bent  on the dried  grass

Popping   up in the fields;

The  train  speeds   past

rumbling    fast on the 

Curvature of tracks,

holding     many passengers

with trackless records of

memories, anecdotes , their

angst  dominating them,

I   too  carry  my  heavy  heart,

affected  by  the  see saw 

rumbles    honing   against

my poetic  voice  within.

I    open up  my  precious  page

In   the   bulky voluminous   note

Book  of  recordation  where  I  

 Scribble,  pour  my  heart’s content,

For  some  times   in  the  train,

Voiceless ,   the  bulky

Note book  served   as my pillow,  

Whispering   silent    notations

Into  my  half-conscious  ears;

I  revel  on my  improvisation:

Life  is    for   improvisation   at  times,

Train   speeds   past  doing   its  duty.